However You Say It
by mezzosangue
Summary: During a time of post-war calm, Hermione has a plan and it includes Severus. Hermione Granger's plans were well thought-out, planned out in color-coded diaries, excellently constructed and the stuff of legend. But they were never calm. And besides, is a calm life what Severus really wants? Canon Compliant, disregards Epilogue. Eventual SS/HG romance.
1. It's Not Manipulation

**However You Call It**

Author's Note: This is a completed work at just under 9,000 words. _Inkspots_ fans will recognize "my Severus", but it is a completely different story. It is post-Hogwarts by about five years. Fluffy and romantic, rated T for language, no lemons to be found.

Disclosure: JK Rowling created and rightfully owns Harry Potter. I simply aim to give you a few happy minutes ignoring the pile of dirty laundry, as we imagine our favorite book characters living on past Deathly Hallows.

"Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words."

― **Jalaluddin Rumi**

 **Chapter 1: It's Not Manipulation...**

Severus sat at dinner in the Great Hall and furrowed his brow at the nonsensical thought that kept running through his mind: _It's stuck._ But the mental image was true and brought him a strange sense of calm. Severus had always viewed his life as a pendulum. As he looked back, he could see the swinging arc as clear as day. It was always the same clock in his mind's eye: a thoroughly non-magical grandfather clock that resided in his house in Spinner's End. It was beautiful and spoke to a pleasantness and adoration that certainly never existed in Severus' memory. It came with the house. It was on the landing of the second story and it was very large and heavy and nearly impossible to move. When the elderly couple that owned the home sold it to Severus' parents, it was not worth the effort to move it down the stairs. As the home deteriorated, _and the neighborhood, and our family_ , Severus added bitterly, it was one of the few things that stayed steady.

Clearing the cobwebs, he considered his thought once more. His life had arced continually from stress to calm to crippling stress once more. The last time he felt this was the four years prior to Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts. He had spent five years drowning under grief at Lily's death along with fear that the Dark Lord would return, quite literally, at any moment. Add to that the harsh reality of learning a new profession, and he was indeed drowning. He could still remember the day when he felt like he was finally entering a period of calm. For the four years following, the pendulum had been stuck on calm, and it was nice. This was just such a day, and he sat a moment, relishing the thought that he could finally exhale and allow the tension to melt from his shoulders. It wouldn't last forever. Surely the pendulum would arc back up again. But the calm had returned, and he needed to capture it.

He looked around the great hall. It was a few months into the new school year, and the students and professors were, for lack of a better word, rather boring. Did everyone else feel it? Yes, he mused, they probably felt it as well. The Hogwarts year was well underway, and all of this year's "What-if?" questions and "How will that work?" questions had been answered or had been of no consequence. It was a normal school year, with very few problems, despite the fact that they were five years post-war and still dealing with the after effects. They would forever be dealing with the after effects of war, so in a way, that was also normal.

As he was thinking about the last time he felt this type of calm – the year before Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger entered the school, he heard Hermione's name. He entertained a bizarre moment of wonder if he had misheard, and then he heard it once more. For the first time that night, he engaged his fellow professors to see why he was hearing her name.

"When did Hermione get here?" Filius asked.

"She got here last night, a few hours before Poppy left," Minerva supplied.

Severus filled in the gaps quickly: Hermione was Poppy's replacement as Poppy was going to visit family for a few days. He usually didn't bother finding out whom St. Mungo's had supplied. He always assumed Minerva checked up on such things.

He heard her name a few more times that night as he walked through the corridors. It was always exciting to the students if they caught a peak of one of the Golden Trio at Hogwarts.

He heard her name once more as he finished up a report in his office that night. It seemed that the portraits were as bad as the students.

When he heard Hermione's voice through his floo, he had a split second of confusion and then immediately kneeled before the fire. Years of being awakened from everything from homesick first years to Voldemort had demanded that he sleep lightly.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"I'm sorry to wake you, Professor Snape, but I felt you should be made aware that you have a student in the Infirmary who is quite ill."

Severus promptly shook his head. "No need to apologize. I will be there in a moment."

Severus rose from his kneeling position in front of the fireplace. He went over the conversation and it dawned on him that he had slipped up. He had called her Hermione. Her face had showed a brief moment of surprise, but he hadn't registered it at the time. He quickly dressed and made his way from his rooms to the Infirmary.

Pushing the double doors open quietly, he took inventory. Mr. Wills was in a bed near the windows. Broken arm from Quidditch practice. He had heard about that from Minerva, fretting that her best Chaser wouldn't be ready to play in two days' time. Surely Hermione hadn't woken him at four in the morning for him.

All of the other beds were made with crisp white sheets tucked in to corners. Finally, his eyes found two beds in the last row, bed sheets rumpled from use.

"Miss Granger?" he called out softly.

A door opened to the side, and Hermione appeared, steadying a sixth year boy, and Severus' gut clenched. It was Mr. Childers, a Gryffindor student whom, it seemed, could never catch a break, despite being very intelligent, handsome and likable.

Hermione's soft voice reached Severus as she helped the tall boy back into his bed: "Just one moment, Professor."

He watched as she made him comfortable, and then she made her way to him, out of earshot of the student.

"Does he still have a fever?" Severus asked, surprised.

Hermione nodded gravely. "It spiked dangerously high an hour ago. If it doesn't break completely in the next couple of hours, I will be transporting him to St. Mungo's. I still feel like the sickness will run its course, but I wanted to make you aware."

Severus looked once more at the boy and then looked at the bed next to his. "Have you been watching him all night?"

Hermione looked at the beds. "Off and on. He is having very vivid dreams. Nightmares. Or, at least I hope they're nightmares," she said, looking at Severus to disavow her fear.

No such luck. Severus shook his head sadly. "They're not fever induced nightmares. They're memories."

Hermione looked back at the boy and sighed. "Damn war," she said tiredly.

Severus nodded and moved closer to the boy then sat on the bed Hermione had been using. She surprised him by sitting next to him.

"Who's he been calling out for?" He asked quietly.

"His parents."

Severus nodded knowingly. Mr. Childers was one of two dozen orphans currently attending Hogwarts. He felt as though nothing could surprise him anymore concerning the war. Its effects had been far reaching and seemingly never ending. Five years later, and an orphan was still calling out for his dead parents.

"You don't need to stay, Professor Snape. I just felt you would want to know. It's serious, but I have it under control."

Severus nodded. "I'll stay. I usually can't sleep much past four anyway." He paused and then glanced at Hermione on his right. "Damn war, and all that."

Hermione sniggered at his attempt at levity.

After a moment of companionable silence as they watched the boy sleep fitfully, Hermione quietly said, "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"For not asking me if I have tried the dozen things that should have made his fever go away by now."

Severus made a noise of annoyance. "They mean well. The old biddies," he added without any malice behind the word. "I have no doubt that you have tried every reasonable course to treat him. I'm assuming he's either allergic to a common potions ingredient, or not responding to treatment, which is typical for the odd two percent of patients in every treatable illness. Either of which are beyond your control. How bad were they?"

Hermione chuckled. "Minerva actually asked if I had tried a fever reducer." She rolled her eyes. "A fever reducer for a fever?" she mocked. "Why didn't I think of that?" She paused. "It's not an allergy, I don't think. He's just in the unlucky two percent."

Severus nodded. "You know it's not personal towards you. She asks me every month if I remember that the Board of Governor's meeting is coming up." He paused as Hermione laughed. "She adores you. They all do. It's a rarity if I make it through a week without, 'Hermione this or Hermione that.' Which is why I called you Hermione earlier. Does that bother you? You are apparently one of the family, an honorary member of faculty here, the adopted goddaughter, favorite former pupil, need I go on?"

Hermione smiled. "It's fine to call me Hermione. Can I call you Severus?"

At his nod in the affirmative, she continued. "Because I don't get one single letter from any of my self-appointed godmothers that isn't, 'Severus this, Severus that.' You are my competition for favorite everything."

Severus scowled in doubt.

"No, it's true! And it started when I was here doing my year of training with Poppy. I'm sure you've heard this story, but Minerva would threaten people at wand point if they called her Headmistress that year."

"Ridiculous," he growled softly. "Out of all the surprises I faced when I finally woke up in St. Mungo's, that was the most outrageous."

Their talk was interrupted as Mr. Childers began to moan in his sleep. Hermione went to him and used a wet washcloth to cool his forehead while simultaneously casting a diagnostic charm. Her reaction was not one of concern, so Severus did not offer to help. Mr. Childers relaxed and calmed in his sleep, and once again Hermione sat down next to Severus.

"Did you not want to be Headmaster again?" she asked, restarting their conversation.

Severus paused to consider Hermione. "I haven't relived that year in a long while, Hermione."

Hermione nodded. "Sorry to pry."

Severus shook his head as he cast a Tempus charm. "I'm just not sure if it's a story for four-thirty in the morning. Maybe one day, I'll tell you what was happening at St. Mungo's and you can tell me about being at Hogwarts."

Hermione smiled. "We definitely traded places, didn't we?"

Severus nodded. "I'll take my leave of you." He paused, looking at her. "You are always welcome at Hogwarts, Hermione."

Severus caught a glimpse of Hermione later that day, at dinner. She was sitting by Minerva, predictably. He overheard her say that Mr. Childers' temperature was finally back to normal, but nonetheless, she ate quickly and left the Great Hall.

"I wonder why Hermione was sent as Poppy's substitute," Minerva said levelly.

"As if this wasn't your design, Minerva," Severus chuckled.

"It wasn't," she said without preamble. "I knew she was coming, and I'm thrilled she's here, but it's odd, truth be told."

"I'm the ex-spy, Minerva. I'm the one who is supposed to see intrigue everywhere, not you. Why couldn't it just be coincidence?"

"St. Mungo's usually gives us a third year healing student, not a fully qualified Healer."

Severus considered the validity of her statement.

"So damn Slytherin," she said in a knowing tone.

Severus scowled. "It wasn't me. I didn't request her. All I did was sign the form Poppy put on my desk. This isn't Slytherin at all. It sounds more like something a," but he stopped short of finishing.

"Like what?" Minerva asked, confused.

"It sounds like you're reading way too much into this, Minerva."

Shortly before curfew, Severus opened the doors once more to the Infirmary. Mr. Will had been released, and two fifth year girls were now in beds along the near wall. He rolled his eyes at the two foolish girls. They had been brewing a love potion in an unused classroom, but the cauldron exploded, covering their hands and arms with minor burns.

Hermione was in the back of the infirmary, talking to Mr. Childers. He watched Hermione smile at Mr. Childers as he approached them and found himself unaccountably jealous of his student.

"Mr. Childers. Healer Granger," he greeted them.

Mr. Childers smiled at Severus. "Healer Granger says she won't go to the Christmas ball with me. But I'm not giving up, Sir."

"Give up, Mr. Childers. That is an order," he said, scowling at the Gryffindor. "However, Miss Rothermel has wanted you to ask her out for ages. If you were not a thick-headed Gryffindor, you would have noticed. It is not my job as Headmaster to find you a date, but you've been ill, so I'm humoring you."

"Miss Rothermel?" he asked, surprised. "She's pretty," he voiced, thinking.

"And very intelligent, like yourself," he growled. "Think with your other brain, son."

Hermione laughed and Severus was rewarded with a smile when he glanced at her.

"You're obviously feeling better," he drawled, then turned to Hermione. "Is he able to rejoin his thick-headed cohorts? They will assuredly all fail tomorrow's History of Magic exam if they can't copy his notes."

"Well," Hermione began, "we know-it-all Gryffindors must keep the ship afloat. Go on, Mr. Childers. You're fine. Don't overdo it tomorrow."

Mr. Childers stood from his bed. "Thank you, Healer Granger. And thank you, Headmaster."

Severus nodded and they watched him leave the infirmary.

Hermione casually glanced at the remaining two patients. Hermione smiled at him again and cast a Tempus charm. "Ten o'clock. Is ten o'clock a better time for a story?" At Severus' smile, she led him to her office and warded the door. She pulled open the bottom right hand drawer of Poppy's desk.

Severus' eyes grew wide as she drew out a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. "How?" he began.

"I was her apprentice, Severus. Poppy is an incredible Healer, and she has great taste in wine. I've found that those two go together, by necessity." She poured both of them a glass of wine. "Don't worry, I'll replace this. I know her favorites. Poppy was definitely the biggest surprise when I got to know all of the faculty that year. I wouldn't have made it without her."

"To liquid courage," intoned Severus. Hermione raised her wine glass in mock toast.

"Your turn," Hermione said.

"That wasn't a story," Severus chided. "That was a short explanation of why my matron has wine hidden in her drawer."

"I didn't say it was a great story," Hermione deadpanned.

Severus chuckled. "All right. My year at St. Mungo's was torture, trying to regain full use of my magic and my right arm. Yes, I wanted to be headmaster again. I wanted to do it right."

Hermione smiled at him. "I'm a much better storyteller. My story had wine."

"Wine and a very short rehashing of a very hard time of my life. Best storytime ever."

"I like being back here," Hermione said, looking around the office and the infirmary beyond.

"As much time as you spent here being either a patient or a visitor, I'm surprised you would step foot in here again."

"It's odd," said Hermione, "but I don't see this as where I was hurt, I always see this as where I was put back together again. I see Poppy and McGonagall and Dumbledore. I see you," she said nodding, seeing Severus' furrowed brow.

After a moment of contemplation, Severus hummed softly in agreement. "I was put back together here as well. Not the infirmary – too many bad memories of waking up here. But Hogwarts. Hogwarts has put me back together too many times to count. I hate going to St. Mungo's," he added with a look at Hermione.

"I saw you there a few weeks ago," she said conversationally.

Severus put down his empty wine glass and wondered again about Hermione while she refilled his glass, about why she was here. "I saw you, too. I was helping their head potioneer with a complicated potion."

Hermione nodded. "You saved that boy's life. Everyone was amazed, and I was thinking, 'Why are they so amazed? Do they not know you?' I wish you would've stopped in to say hello."

He paused for a long moment to study Hermione. She blushed slightly at his gaze as she watched him over the rim of her wine glass.

"Was this all for me, Hermione?"

To her credit, she simply nodded.

"You placed yourself at Hogwarts for three days to see me?" he asked, not unkindly.

She did not avoid his eyes as she answered. "Yes."

His countenance closed slightly. "I do not like to be manipulated."

Hermione did not shrink from his words. "Not eighteen hours ago, you told me I was always welcome at Hogwarts. I would caution you that what you are suddenly seeing as manipulation, most men would call flirting."

He was able to school his features blank, but in the end he smirked when Hermione raised an eyebrow in challenge. They regarded each other for a minute. Severus then slowly stood and placed his wine glass back on the desk. "Thank you for the wine, Hermione."

"Thank you for the company," Hermione replied.

Severus nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.

As he made the walk back to his office he remembered the pendulum. Not one day ago, he thought it was stuck on calm. He snorted inelegantly at his short-sightedness. Hermione Granger had a plan. This plan involved him somehow. Hermione Granger's plans were well thought-out, planned out in diaries, excellently constructed and the stuff of legend. But they were never calm. He smirked as he gave the gargoyle his password.

Calm was overrated.


	2. We're Not Driven

Author's Note: Thank you for the kind reviews!

Chapter 2 - We're not driven...

Two weeks later, Severus stood in the Great Hall with his fellow professors. At the appointed time, he motioned with his wand to open the doors to the Great Hall, thus beginning the Christmas dance. Though less formal than the Yule Ball, Hogwarts would be hosting a fair number of distinguished guests.

Severus stood near the doors with Minerva to welcome the guests. He quickly tired of shaking hands with members of the Board of Governors and their significant others. After a short while, he was sure that he had greeted everyone on his mental list of "Begrudgingly worthy of a handshake." He was about to motion to Minerva that they could take their place at the Head Table when Hermione walked in on the arm of Harry Potter.

He could not suppress a grin. She was good. He had almost invited her himself, but he wanted to see if she would find a way to attend the ball. And there she was.

He shook Harry's hand, but looked at Hermione. "Harry, thank you for coming." Harry greeted him and looked at Hermione quizzically. Harry shrugged and moved on to Minerva.

As Severus took Hermione's hand, he said, "Welcome back, Hermione."

"Thank you, Severus," she replied. "Ginny is so uncomfortable so far along in her pregnancy. I hated to think of her on her feet all night, so I offered to go in her place. She was relieved, I think."

"Hmmm. What is the word I'm thinking of?" Severus teased. "I know the word is definitely not, 'conniving.'"

"Definitely not!" Hermione said, smiling. "It was guidance, Severus."

"Guidance," Severus repeated solemnly, nodding.

He let go of her hand and she returned to Harry's side. Severus watched them greet a few more people as everyone made their ways to their designated tables surrounding a large dance floor.

Dinner seemed to move at a snail's pace as he listened to some school governor drone on about the latest Wizengamot trial. He was able to nonchalantly catch glances of Hermione throughout dinner. She was mostly quiet, probably listening to the same drivel he was listening to. He watched her communicate non-verbally with Potter. He was jealous of their friendship in that moment. That camaraderie was rare, and he had never enjoyed that level of friendship with anyone except Albus, and now Minerva.

Severus watched as the first brave students made their way out to the dance floor. His face remained impassive, but was pleased to see Mr. Childers dancing with Miss Rothermel. He waited patiently for the right moment, knowing that it wouldn't be a long wait. Sure enough, a few minutes later Minerva approached Harry for a dance.

He walked towards Hermione, who smiled at him as he approached. "May I have this dance, Miss Granger?" he asked silkily.

Hermione nodded and placed her hand in his. "It would be my pleasure, Headmaster."

They danced silently for a few moments. He enjoyed the feel of his hand on her waist and her easy smile.

"Who is Mr. Childers dancing with?" she asked.

"Miss Rothermel, of course."

"You're very persuasive."

"Persuasive? I merely made a suggestion," Severus deadpanned. "You didn't poison him, did you?" At her scandalized look, he continued, "To get me to come down to the infirmary that night? You're very driven," he teased.

"Driven? Me?" she teased back. "No, no, I'm merely efficient. I wanted to see you and it just so happened that I had a seriously ill patient. Just good timing, no poison, I promise!"

She threw her head back and laughed at his look of mock suspicion and he couldn't help but smile.

As the dance ended, he felt her tug her hand lightly away from his, but he wouldn't let her hand go and started dancing the second dance with her.

"Severus…" she began tentatively.

"Hermione…." he mimicked.

"One dance and you are the courteous Headmaster dancing with the spinster war veteran. Two dances and we're on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow."

"No doubt," he answered softly.

"That doesn't bother you?" she asked, surprised.

"The Daily Prophet will merely report that we have significant jobs. I'm sure they won't speculate about our personal lives," he deadpanned.

Hermione snorted inelegantly, which made him chuckle.

"I have a plan, Hermione."

"Plan? Or should we call it an experiment?" Hermione teased.

"Definitely a plan," Severus said with mock severity.

"Oh my," Hermione replied. "This ought to be good."

After a minute of silence, Hermione prodded, "You're going to tell me, right? Or is it a surprise?

"I'm going to tell you," Severus replied. "During the third song."

"Third song? You think I'm going to stick around for a third song?" She raised her eyebrow, mocking him.

He raised his eyebrow in return earning another laugh and led her through the end of the second dance. Once the third song began, he spoke. "Number one, the photographer from the Daily Prophet is having a hard time getting a good picture, so look over your right shoulder and smile."

Hermione smiled at Severus and then dutifully looked over her right shoulder and heard the tale-tell sound of the camera.

"Number two," Severus continued as though there were no interruption, "we are going to look for miscreants in the rose garden. They'll take yet another picture, frame it like we're taking a romantic stroll and then they'll toddle off to get it ready for the morning's edition of the Prophet."

After a lengthy pause, Hermione furrowed her brow. "What's number three?"

"Number three? Hmm. We'll call it a conference."

Severus enjoyed watching Hermione as they danced. She had always been a mixture to him. He often viewed people as potions. So many people he knew were simple brews. Predictable, boring. If you could make it one time, there was never a need to practice that brew again. Not Hermione. She was fiddly. No, he thought, fiddly was not quite the right word. Challenging; she was challenging. So many powerful ingredients swirling around, each one dangerous. He thought back to when he was a sixth year. He would tutor students in Slytherin to scrape together enough galleons and buy the one ingredient he couldn't get in the student's cupboard so that he could attempt Felix Felicis. He failed all four times he tried that year, but the potion brought him back time and again. It was frustrating, but the complexity was beautiful.

The third song came to an end and Severus motioned for Hermione to walk with him to the rose garden. He walked slowly and put his hand on the small of Hermione's back. She smirked at him when they heard the photographer snap a final picture.

"We should be in the clear now," he sighed.

They continued to wind their way through the rose garden, though it was way too early in the Christmas ball for any of the students to be hidden among the bushes.

"Do you still blast the rose bushes?" Hermione asked, smiling.

"I haven't changed, Hermione," Severus replied somewhat warily. So many people had expectations that he had come through the war as a different person. Some of the pain had been eased, some of the stress had been removed, but he was still the same man.

"Good," Hermione said.

Her decisive tone was refreshing. Ever since she had wormed her way into the castle to see him two weeks ago, she had been on his mind.

He led her back into the castle and led her past the great hall.

"Don't you have to supervise the ball?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Minerva can handle it. We have a deal."

"And what deal is that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"She will supervise the ball and make sure the governors are all taken care of."

"And you will…" Hermione prodded.

"I will let her order the staff Christmas gifts."

Hermione laughed. "So she does you a favor and ends up doing more work?"

"No," Severus replied. "She does me a favor and the staff gets oak matured mead for Christmas instead of tacky socks. It's a win-win situation."

Hermione playfully swatted his elbow. "And you call me driven!"

"Efficient." He smiled at her, enjoying a small glimpse into the kind of friendship he had observed when watching her with Potter.

His thoughts where broken when Hermione stopped walking.

"The Library?" she asked quizzically.

He had led them to the doors of the library and was now holding one of the doors open for her. He motioned for her to go inside and she did. He led her back to a table near a window overlooking the Forbidden Forest.

"There are two places we can talk where students will not enter tonight: the library and my office. That used to not be the case, but a certain know-it-all bookworm graduated a few years back, and I'm certain no one will be in here tonight. And since my office is never really private, here we are."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. He enjoyed freely looking at Hermione as she sat across from him.

"Do you feel like a student when you're back in the library?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered simply. "Everywhere else I have too many teacher memories overlaying my memories as a student, but here in the library, I remember my time as a student. I try not to come in here very often. I don't want that feeling to go away."

She nodded, reminiscing about her own time as she looked around the room and then settled her eyes on Severus' once more.

"I know why you're here, Hermione," he said softly.

"I think I've made that quite plain, Severus."

"No, you misunderstand. I know why it's me, Hermione. And it's no good," he said. He was trying to be kind to Hermione while kicking himself for being noble. Here sat a beautiful young woman wanting to pursue a relationship of some sort, and he was turning her away.

"You can't possibly know my reasoning," began Hermione, when he interrupted.

"The law," he said evenly.

She looked down at the table.


	3. It's Not Naivety

**Author's Note:** Favorite Review this week was from " **Genevieve Darcy Granger -** **"a marriage law? omg** "

I'm not sure if that was, "omg - I love marriage law stories!" or if it was, "omg - not another one." Ha! I hope either way that this is a touch different than the stories we've read.

Thank you all for reviewing!

 **Three years prior**

When the war was over and he was recovered, Severus vowed to never again step inside Grimmauld Place unless there was a new dark lord. There was no new dark lord, but the current situation warranted his attendance that night, nonetheless.

"There is no need to panic," said Arthur Weasley.

"That's rich coming from someone who is married," Hermione quipped as Severus stepped inside the door of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

Minerva and a few others acknowledged his presence. He made his way to the back corner, where just as in the past, he liked to stand and observe.

"When will Kingsley be here?" Minerva asked calmly.

"He should be here any minute," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"I think we should talk about what will happen if the law passes," Harry asked.

"We know what will happen," answered Hermione. "You will marry Ginny," she said pointedly. "Let's not pretend you're worried about yourself."

Ginny rolled her eyes and put her hand on top of Harry's, who was about to speak again. "Hermione's right. The only reason we had to call a meeting was because of Hermione. Everyone else is married or has a plan to be married eventually. Speeding up a marriage isn't a big deal. But the thought of forcing Hermione," she began, but Hermione interjected.

"And every other witch or wizard forty and under! It's insanity. But this is my business and I will take care of it. This doesn't have anything to do with the Order."

"But it does, Hermione!" said Harry hotly. "You are a member of the Order. You know every secret of the Order. You know every detail of my life, every detail of the war. You're friends with the Minister of Magic. You don't think there's any person out there who would use this marriage law as a way to get information or manipulate Kingsley? You've seen evil at its worst and you can't think of one way this situation could be used against you and against the Order?"

"It won't pass, Harry!" growled Hermione.

"Damn it, Hermione." Harry said darkly. "I tell you what Ron and I hear as Aurors, I tell you who's still got sway in the Wizengamot, and it does no good."

"Hermione," Arthur said calmly, "we know you can handle this. But we want to help you. Besides being in the Order, you're like a daughter to us. We won't step aside and just hope it all works for the best. We're fighting this law tooth and nail. But we need to have a plan."

Minerva sighed. "There is only one obvious solution, though I do not pretend," she said quickly, looking at Hermione, "that any solution would be easy at all."

"There is no obvious _or_ easy solution," said Harry. "Everyone else in the Order is married or engaged or well over forty."

Minerva looked at Severus in the far corner. "Not everyone, Harry."

Severus steeled his gaze on Minerva as everyone turned to look at him. He knew Minerva was the only person in the room who knew his age down to the month, but he had hoped to be spared this attention.

Kingsley walked in seconds later. The horrible silence was broken with Kingsley's "Sorry I'm late" and everyone turned immediately to the door.

Kingsley had positive news to share. It seemed that he was much more in line with Hermione's thinking than Harry's. He told them that he was hopeful the proposed law would be struck down within a fortnight.

Hermione outwardly seemed quite happy and self-assured at this news, but Severus noticed that Harry was still watching Hermione and Severus turned his attention back to the young woman. Underneath the calm exterior, she was upset; he could see that now. And there was also her usual unsettled energy as she puzzled something out. He could practically see her brain working from across the room. He got caught watching her as she looked up directly at him. He expected her to blush in embarrassment or to look away in disgust. What he didn't expect was to see her look at him and look apologetic before someone called her name.

He escaped shortly after that moment, once people started talking to each other and asking Kingsley more questions.

Arriving back at Hogwarts, he automatically walked up to the gargoyle guarding the stairs but did not voice the password. He did not want to be barraged by questions from the portraits.

He turned on his heel and made his way down to the dungeons. Students didn't linger in the corridors near the dungeons, especially near curfew. He had already been thinking about this mental marriage law non-stop since the Prophet reported it a month ago. But his thoughts had been only about himself and his choices. He had dated a few women since the end of the war. There were a few women who had mistakenly painted him as a romantic hero in their minds. And then there were the other women. The women whom he was excited to date just to find out there was nothing to them except their name or reputation or beauty. There were no second dates from either camp, to say the least.

But now, it was not about his choices. It was about Hermione. It was again about the war. He was not near as naïve as Hermione. Harry's fears were not unfounded. And even Harry didn't have the whole picture of what could be brewing.

Marriage to her would be a train wreck, he thought miserably. His laps in the dungeons were uncharitable towards her. She was bossy. She was a nag. He had called her a know-it-all more times than he could count. She was unimaginative and talked too much. Hermione was now the poster child for every character flaw imaginable.

An hour past curfew, he finally made his way out of the dungeons and stopped at the entrance of the great hall. He went inside and looked up at the moonlit night and watched small grey clouds roll over the moon like slow waves. The anger was settling in. Another choice taken away from him. Another part of life sacrificed "for the greater good." He congratulated himself on his choice not to go brood in his private lab. Surely something would have been thrown against the wall by now. The anger was not new. The proposed law had already created anger. But his anger had been against the law, against being rushed into a marriage. And while he would never voice it aloud, the law, while onerous for many, would act like a catalyst for him and so many others who wanted to get married eventually but were in no rush. It might even be a good thing. But no more. Now it was a dark mark in the sky, warning you of the horror you were about to come upon.

As he seethed and marched up two flights of stairs to the gargoyle once more, he was down to random words. Law. Nag. Damn Minerva. Damn Hermione. Naïve. _Naïve._ He gave the gargoyle his password and went into his office and sat down, staring at his desk, thankful that all of the portraits were at least feigning sleep.

 _Naïve._

Hermione was many things, but she was not naïve. This is the same woman who sent her parents to Australia to keep them alive during the war. He went over the night's proceedings in his head. Dammit. She had been one step ahead of him. She knew how old he was; she knew that he, too, was subject to the law. She knew that the Order would force him to marry her. He knew that the meeting had been about Hermione, but had not done any research and simply thought one of the Weasleys would be called upon. She probably had a list of every eligible wizard in Britain and beyond and already knew the outcome of the meeting before she crossed took one step into Grimmauld Place. She had attempted to protect him before he was called upon to protect her.

Severus leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few minutes he retired to his private chambers and got ready for bed. He was too tired to think about Hermione any more that night, but he dreaded the dawn. He had a feeling that he would be ashamed of his thoughts regarding Hermione in the harsh light of day.

Over the next few days, Minerva talked to Severus about Hermione. He allowed it, not because he wanted to talk about her, but because he felt he owed it to Hermione to be civil after his initial cruelty, even if that cruelty was only in his own head. He didn't need Minerva to tell him that Hermione was his intellectual equal, or that she was loyal and dedicated. His face showed no emotion as Minerva informed him that she would be open-minded and faithful.

"And she's very protective," Minerva finished on the third morning. It was their daily "Hermione chat" as Severus called it in his head, and Minerva was about to leave breakfast to teach fifth years. It was a throwaway statement, as if Minerva was trying to round out an even dozen and could really only come up with eleven.

He nodded once to Minerva without thinking. Most women would have barely registered his nod, but Minerva was not most women. Her eyes widened. And at that moment, Minerva knew that he would do it not only out of duty, but out of intrigue. Because of the question that had burned within him from the night of the meeting: when had anyone ever tried to protect him?

Minerva got up from her seat and put her hand on Severus' shoulder and squeezed. It was as motherly as Minerva got. But he could trust Minerva with his secret.

The next morning, Minerva did not give a new installment of the Hermione Chat. She knew she didn't need to.

Every day, he read the Daily Prophet and wondered which outcome he preferred. He had escaped the notice of the Daily Prophet, but there was a picture of Hermione in every edition. Some were stock photos from the war two years prior, but most were recent pictures of her fighting the proposed marriage law. They made her look like a nasty piece of work, but all Severus saw was fire.

And then it happened. The headline read, 'Marriage Law Defeated'. Mercifully, the headline was on the Saturday edition and most of the professors were having a lie-in.

Minerva set down her paper and said, "Well, that's that."

Severus set down his paper and looked at her. "They finally came to their senses."

Minerva leaned toward him. "Severus," she began, "you can still," but Severus forestalled her.

"No."

"Damn stubborn man," she said quietly, getting up from her seat. Severus knew that Minerva felt as though she had lost out of having Hermione as a daughter-in-law of sorts. But Severus was more pragmatic and so, he imagined, was Hermione. He imagined that both of them knew that whichever way the ruling fell that there was never going to be a happily-ever-after to this story.


	4. She's Not Fiddly

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews!**

 **Previously...**

 _"You can't possibly know my reasoning," began Hermione, when he interrupted._

 _"The law," he said evenly._

 _She looked down at the table._

...

"The law didn't pass, Hermione. And that's a good thing," Severus said evenly.

Hermione looked up at him and nodded, but was silent.

"You're a young woman. You'll find a," Severus began.

"A husband, yes. Thank you, Severus."

"Don't get upset at me. I didn't,"

"Rehearse this speech?" Hermione quipped.

 _Damn fiddly potion._ "What do you want me to say, Hermione?"

"I'm not looking for answers, and I'm not a fifth year looking for career guidance from the Headmaster."

"What are you looking for?" Severus asked, looking down at his hands folded on the table.

"I'm looking for you," Hermione said simply.

"Dammit, Hermione."

"There he is," she said snarkily. "Why did you dance with me?"

"It is customary," he began.

"Bullshit. You made a production out of it and ensured I am on the front page tomorrow for the first of a week's full of made-up scandal with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Why? So you could let me down easy? I don't think so. So let's stop the speeches."

"You don't think I've thought about it?" Severus said heatedly. "You don't think I thought about you non-stop three years ago? But who does this, Hermione? Who decides to pursue a relationship because of a law that didn't pass three years ago? Who does that?"

"How was dating Miss Lewell?" asked Hermione evenly.

Severus scowled at her. "I am not here to talk about my dating life. The Daily Prophet does plenty of that."

"She's beautiful. She's not stupid. I read her articles in Ars Alchemia all the time." Hermione paused. "What did she ask you?"

Severus felt his annoyance go up.

"How about I tell you about my dating life," Hermione offered.

"Hermione – I don't…" Merlin, Severus did not want to hear this. This was his life. Beautiful woman across the table and somehow, it always ends badly.

"So first there was Daniel. Muggle. So smart, so cute. I met him in a university class studying radiation technologies."

Severus furrowed his brows. "How did you get into a muggle university radiation class?" Severus was impressed, crazy conversation be damned.

"Faked my way in, obviously. It was fascinating. I wanted to know what the muggles are doing for diagnostics to see if there was a charm that I could create to duplicate some of the newer technology."

Severus was unable to help his fascination. "Was there? Were you able to make a new charm?" he asked seriously.

"Oh yes!" Hermione nodded, eyes wide.

"Show me."

Hermione took her wand from her sleeve and aimed it at Severus' heart. He watched as she focused her concentration. She made a bell-shaped movement and Severus felt Hermione's magic weave into him powerfully. It almost took his breath away. And then suddenly it was gone and there was a golden glow emanating from his heart.

"What did that do?" he asked.

"It told me that your heart is in good shape."

"There are charms to detect a heart attack."

"By then it's usually just to confirm what damage has been done. I just did a new version of a diagnostic heart catheterization where my magic literally flowed at a controlled pace through your heart and it was timed. If something had been slowing my magic down, maybe a blockage, it would have glowed blue. This is preventative."

Severus was in awe of her power. He was in awe of her.

"I should have warned you, it's a pretty intense feeling. It's intense casting it, too, which is why it's not exactly mainstream."

Severus just nodded, then tried to collect himself. _Reason._ He needed her to see reason. But he didn't want to anymore. He wanted to hear her call him "Severus" again. So few people called him "Severus" anymore.

He took a deep breath and plowed on. "You're an amazing witch, Hermione. You need," he started.

"We're not doing this again," Hermione chastised. "You went back into Headmaster mode, so now you have to hear my dating stories."

Severus raised his an eyebrow as she continued.

"So Daniel and I dated, but he didn't know I was a witch. It was going well for a while. But he was so damn fragile. So threatened that I was smarter than him. What was going to happen when he found out I could beat him in a university exam _and_ I can create blue bell flames as a party trick, much less apparate?"

Severus ground his jaw painfully. He despised weak men.

"So, muggles are out. Did you ever date a muggle?"

"Yes," Severus replied sarcastically, "I live in a sentient castle and am the headmaster of a school of witchcraft and wizardry, but I'm sure a muggle woman would have overlooked those two small things."

Hermione rolled her eyes and continued. "So next were wizards, and that was better. They could pretty much accept me as I was: a witch, bookish, overbearing…"

"You really know how to sell yourself," Severus deadpanned.

"It's not like I can hide those things," Hermione said with a straightforward tone. "Which brings us again to my question: what did Miss Lewell ask you?"

Severus' lips tightened and his annoyance with Hermione rose. Why was she doing this? Why was she so determined to rub salt in this wound?

Severus inhaled deeply and exhaled. "She asked me," and then Hermione said along with him: "what the cruciatus felt like."

Severus' brow furrowed. He had never told that to anyone. No one could ever understand what that question did to him. It turned his entire life's work fighting a war into a two minute curse. It cemented in his mind that no one would ever understand him. How could they think the cruciatus was anything compared to the pain of war, of loss and betrayal and mistrust, fear and wishing for death if it meant escape? A single curse was the worst thing that Lewell woman could think of. Merlin, to have such naivety.

 _But Hermione was not naïve._

Severus looked at her. "Did that happen to you?"

Hermione nodded and swallowed. "Not always that question, but some variation that made me die inside each time it was asked. And we're not the only ones. Harry hides it well, but his only true friends are those few of us who actually 'get it'. Those of us who know better than to ask if it was cool to talk to his mom and dad again as he walked in to a forest to die."

Severus got up and looked out the darkened window. "It still doesn't have to be _me_ , Hermione. You need a strong wizard, yes. You need a man who understands you and the war and that 'you and the war' are not two distinct terms."

"Yes." Hermione breathed behind him.

"But you're still using that miserable law. You fantasized about me – hell, I fantasized about you, too. It couldn't be helped after that damn meeting where Minerva said it was our only option. But fantasies are not real, Hermione." He paused. "Dammit, Hermione, fantasies are not fair – to either of us."

He turned back to look at her, still sitting at the table. Merlin, why did he do it? Why did he ask her to dance, bring her here to the library?

Hermione smiled at him. And as he looked at her, he remembered why he asked her to dance. Not because of a law, but because a beautiful, intelligent, strong witch wanted to be with him. He shook his head in surrender and sat down heavily next to her.

Hermione began, "I'm not here because of some fantasies, though I had a million. One of my favorites was how we were forced into marriage, but then ended up curing Lycanthropy."

Severus bowed his head and smirked. "I had that one, too."

"I still think that might be possible," Hermione teased, bumping his shoulder with her own. She then tucked one leg under the other as she turned toward him in her chair.

Severus, too, turned himself in his chair to face her and leaned in with his elbows on his knees and spoke softly. "In the best fantasies, the absolute best version of me fell in love with the absolute best version of you."

Hermione nodded. "And then you remembered that I can be a bossy cow and you can be a mean bastard."

"Yes. And in the worst fantasies, I hurt you."

She put her hands in his. "And I hurt you, too." He felt the heat of her hands seep into his.

Severus nodded. "And then the law went away overnight. And so did the fantasies." He paused. "Eventually."

"Yes, they went away eventually, and then," she paused and looked at him, "I wanted them back. But they changed. It was no longer the best or worst of us in an impossible situation. It looked like two people who might have been happier a couple years later had that law passed. I looked at Severus, the sometimes mean bastard, brilliant man, possibly loving person, and decided I wanted to know if he was real."

Was he real? Could he be what Hermione wanted? Could she be what he wanted? He didn't know. But he knew that he had lain awake many nights after the law was defeated wondering if he had lost out on something good.

He leaned in slowly and kissed her. He felt her hands tighten as she kissed him back. It was soft and she was so soft and he could feel her trembling. As he leaned back and looked at her, her smile was shy. He smiled softly back at her. She nervously ran a hand through her hair and accidentally pulled some curls out of her fancy style. She had obviously forgotten that it was not down like normal.

She looked at him sheepishly and sighed, "I'm such a…" But she was interrupted as a brilliant white stag patronus bound into the library straight toward them.

It spoke with Harry's voice as they both looked at it. "Hey Hermione, and, uh Professor Snape."

Hermione shushed Severus when he mumbled, "Damn that map."

Harry's patronus continued, "I'm going home. And tomorrow morning, I'm going to get up very early _on a Sunday morning_ to burn the Daily Prophet before my hormonal pregnant wife sees it and goes bat shit crazy asking me questions that I don't know the answers to. I will see you at brunch tomorrow morning at 10, Hermione. Love, Harry." The patronus dissolved, leaving the library much darker.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she got her wand back out. "Harry is such an idiot. He signs patronus messages like they're letters. As if I don't know it's him."

Hermione's otter patronus swam around brightly as she spoke to it. "Good call on the Daily Prophet. I'll see you and Ginny at 10. Love you both." The patronus dipped and rolled as it swam from the Library.

Severus stood before Hermione and pulled a pin from Hermione's hair. When she felt him pull another pin, she put a hand on his wrist to still it and said, "I thought you were fixing my hair."

"No," he said silkily. "In all of my fantasies, your hair was down." She smiled and let go of his wrist and he slowly took all of the pins from her hair. He then took her hands and pulled her up from the chair. "Much better," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her waist to draw her closer. She put her arms around his neck and as they kissed again, she did not tremble. He ran a hand through her hair and felt it tangle and envelop his hand. Merlin, it was so much better than his fantasies.

He eventually, reluctantly, broke their kiss. "Let's go for a walk. The corridors should be deserted by now."

They walked slowly together through the castle and Severus led her through the oak front doors and into the grounds.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you for reading! One short epilogue left...**


	5. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I appreciate the kind reviews! Here's a short epilogue just for fun.**

 **Eplilogue**

"Merlin, woman, you have to give more details. We can't see into the grounds!" exclaimed Phineas Nigellus Black. A chorus of agreement came from the other portraits.

"They're walking around the lake, Phineas. It's not like I can read their lips from here. Where's Albus?"

"He's trying to get more info from the portraits near the entryway. That drunk monk is a gossip whore," Phineas responded.

Minerva snorted. "You're one to talk."

"I just want him to be happy, Minerva," Phineas said in an uncharacteristically solemn voice.

Minerva smiled. "Me, too, Phineas."

"Call the House Elves – they'll know something." Phineas said with sudden inspiration.

Minerva looked back at the portrait with equally mischievous eyes.

"Whispy!" she called out.

A tiny elf popped in and bowed low. "Whispy is ready to serve the deputy headmistress."

"Whispy – do we have any guest rooms being made up for Hermione Granger?"

"No, deputy headmistress, madam," Whispy answered.

Minerva's and Phineas' countenances fell slightly.

"But we elves is taking a bottle of wine and desserts to the Room of Requirement. And such a room we has not seen in many years. And Whispy is to stay in the room and make sure it stays the way Headmaster Snape requested for himself and Miss Granger."

"Go!" "Leave!" and "Get out!" were chorused all at once to the poor elf from all directions.

"Thank you, Whispy!" Minerva tried to add, but the poor elf had popped out with wide eyes and a loud crack.

Minerva and Phineas smiled at one another.

"You did good, letting it slip to Hermione that Poppy was taking a leave," Phineas said slyly.

"You did good, encouraging Severus to put Harry Potter on the guest list for tonight knowing Ginny's feet are swollen," she said in return.

"Here's to many more years of Slytherin and Gryffindor collaborations," Phineas said with a mock bow.

"Well," Minerva replied peering out the window, "it looks like those two are doing more than collaborating under the birch tree."

"And they call me manipulative." Every portrait and Minerva turned to look at Albus, who had just returned to his portrait.

"We're not manipulative," said Minerva, scowling.

Haughty as always, Phineas had the last word. "We're encouraging."


End file.
